Kattegat, 786 AD
The longhouse was warm and protected against the spring rain falling on the thatched roof.
Smoke rose from the central hearth while the smell of damp wool and barley stew filled the air.
Outside, life in Kattegat continued; farmers worked in muddy fields, fishermen tended their nets by the fjord, and workers repaired longships at the docks for the eastern raids Earl Haraldson had ordered.
Bjorn sat on a bench near the fire with hands on his knees while watching the flames with his deep blue eyes. Though only five years old, he was tall and strong for his age, with a build that people in the village noticed.
Unknown to him, nanomachines in his body enhanced his strength, improved his reflexes, and helped him heal from injuries quickly.
But his most significant advantage was his mind: he had an adult's understanding and strategic thinking trapped in a child's body.
He had spent five years in this world, learning how it worked. Five years since he first saw Lagertha's tired face and felt Ragnar's rough hands in a world full of hard work and sea air. His unusual abilities made him special, but he kept his knowledge hidden, waiting for the right time to reveal what he knew about ships, navigation and the physics of sailing. He planned to wait until he was close to twelve, when he would be physically ready to join Ragnar's raids westward.
People in the village had already noticed something different about him. Last summer, when Torvald, a local bully pushed him, Bjorn had reacted with unexpected skill. He grabbed the boy's arm, twisted it, and pinned him to the ground until Torvald gave up. The other children watched in surprise, and word spread that Ragnar's son was unusual.
Bjorn didn't try to hide his physical abilities. He carried heavier loads of wood than other children could manage. He ran faster than older boys moving with unusual coordination. His scrapes and cuts healed overnight. He wanted people to see his strength because a good reputation would help him when he eventually joined the raids.
Ragnar encouraged Bjorn's development. Though he worked as a farmer, paying taxes to Earl Haraldson, Ragnar dreamed of exploring lands beyond their fjord. He noticed Bjorn's strength and pushed him to do more. "You're not like the others," he told Bjorn once while gripping his shoulder firmly.
Bjorn wanted to meet his father's expectations, not for praise, but because he shared Ragnar's vision of exploration, and he wanted to create history, and since he is here with no way back home, better use this opportunity to it's fullest.
Lagertha was practical and observant. She worked hard grinding grain and managing their home, noticing everything around her. She didn't treat Bjorn like a typical child. When she saw him easily lift his sister Gyda or outrun the village boys, she simply nodded with approval.
Sometimes she studied him carefully, as if sensing there was more to him than unusual strength. Bjorn was careful not to reveal too much. He respected her tough but loving support and wanted to protect her.
Three-year-old Gyda brought joy to their home. She wandered near the hearth with her doll, speaking in half-formed words.
"B'on! B'on!" she would call, arms raised for him to lift her. "Up high!"
When she climbed onto Bjorn's lap and called him "B'on" with a smile, his mature mind softened. He held her gently, determined to build a better future for her.
"One day you'll see England, little one," he whispered when nobody could hear. "Places with stone buildings taller than trees and books filled with knowledge. I promise you."
Her innocence reminded him why he needed to succeed.
The longhouse had its problems; the walls leaked during heavy rain, and smoke from the hearth irritated his eyes. Bjorn knew how to improve it with better beams and ventilation, but kept these ideas to himself for now. His knowledge of ships and navigation would wait until Ragnar was ready to sail west. For now, he focused on developing his physical abilities and reputation.
After defeating Torvald, other boys kept their distance.
After that he continued to demonstrate his strength by carrying extra firewood and outrunning others. He knew a warrior needed to build respect through actions.
So in conclusion, he planned to use these gifts to help achieve Ragnar's dreams of western exploration, to honor Lagertha's trust, and to secure a better life for Gyda.
The door opened and Rollo entered dripping with rain. His large frame filled the doorway as he looked around at Lagertha by the cooking pot and Gyda playing near the fire before focusing on Bjorn.
"Bjorn," Rollo called over the sound of rain. "Ragnar's in the meadow talking about you. He says you're strong enough to start training. It's time to learn the sword, boy."
"Is he serious?" Lagertha asked, setting down her wooden spoon. "He's not six yet."
"Tell that to his arms," Rollo laughed. "He carries more than boys twice his age. Besides, I was swinging a blade at six."
"And nearly lost your foot," Lagertha reminded him.
"But I didn't," Rollo winked at Bjorn. "Your mother worries too much."
"He should have a childhood," Lagertha insisted.
"In this world?" Rollo countered. "Better a living warrior than a dead child and the raids will come whether he's ready or not."
Bjorn stood up steadily, considering this opportunity carefully. This was his first step toward becoming the warrior he needed to be. He didn't smile or rush but simply nodded, meeting Rollo's eyes with unusual focus.
"I want to learn," he said, his voice firmer than a five-year-old's should be. "I'm ready."
"See?" Rollo gestured toward him. "The boy knows his own mind."
"Alright, lead the way," he said calmly, containing his anticipation after five years of waiting.
Rollo's smile faltered briefly, as if noticing something unusual about the boy. "You are a serious one, aren't you?" he said while patting Bjorn's shoulder hard enough to test his balance. "Come on, then. Let's see what those arms can do."
Lagertha paused her work and watched Bjorn with concern. "Be careful with him, Rollo. He's still a child despite his strength."
"I'll be fine, Mother," Bjorn assured her with confidence beyond his years.
Gyda played on, unaware of the moment's importance, while Lagertha remained silent but clearly worried. Bjorn nodded slightly to his mother, silently promising to be careful.
He followed Rollo into the rain toward the meadow, ready to prove himself with the sword and demonstrate his abilities for everyone to see.
"Your father says you're special," Rollo commented as they walked through the muddy path. "That the gods have touched you."
"Do you believe that?" Bjorn asked, keeping pace easily despite his short legs.
Rollo glanced down at him, his expression unreadable. "I believe you're not like other children. Whether that's the gods or something else..." He shrugged. "We'll see what you do with it."